


Thimblesworth

by Byacolate, Whitetyger123



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Bars and Pubs, Contemporary Middle Earth Fusion, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Established Relationship, F/M, Frottage, Hair Braiding, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, M/M, Matchmaking, Modern Middle Earth, Pining, Public Display of Affection, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings fusion, Timeline What Timeline, vague adherence to royal lineage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whitetyger123/pseuds/Whitetyger123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have a preference for redheads, then?” Fíli asked, dropping down at the bar with a little knowing nod toward Legolas. “Can’t say I see any other similarities between our wee cousin and your bouncer, but -”</p>
<p>“They are both quite ferocious, I suppose,” Legolas said with a thoughtful glance toward the ceiling. “Hardworking. Stubborn to a fault. Loyal. Unerringly fond of expensive weaponry and harlequin novels. Oh, perhaps I do have a type after all.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. get going (and I’m going to be right behind you)

“Honestly, the improvements are astonishing. The décor extends beyond all of those ancient racks of empty bottles - truly, I’ve no idea whether Gandalf was being nostalgic or just lazy – but look! We’ve got real art now. Oh! And the new lighting makes it possible to see beyond two feet in front of your own face, thank the Valar.” Bilbo’s mouth didn’t stop running as he bustled to the boot of his car while his companions unstuffed themselves from the backseat and into the quiet, damp night air. They attempted to help him lift their luggage, but he waved them away and grunted through the removal of each pack. “The antiquated register is out, the new device is in, so have fun sorting that out because I most certainly will _not_ be laying a _finger_ on something so extraordinarily - _newfangled_ and, and - _complex_. No, you are on your own I’m afraid.”

 

“Of course, Bilbo,” Legolas assured, hefting a pack that was nearly the Hobbit’s size over his shoulder with ease.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” came Gimli’s gravely serious voice as he exchanged glances with Legolas, lifting a suitcase in each hand. Mirth swelled in Legolas’ chest and he had to look away to keep from laughing aloud.

 

“Yes, well.” Bilbo straightened his back at a loss of any further luggage to assist them with and snapped the hood of the boot shut. He dug about in his coat pockets and pulled out a ring of thickly forged keys, bustling up the path toward the dark entrance of the establishment. “Here we are, yes, that’s - no, it’s this one - oh, for pity’s sake, give me one moment. They changed the locks only yesterday, and that’s hardly enough time to - yes, here we are, this one.”

 

The door unlocked smoothly once the proper key was fitted - a pleasant change from the lock system they’d left not three weeks before, which required a very precise amount of jiggling and pushing and cursing to persuade - and Bilbo swung the door of the pub open wide. He beamed up at Legolas and Gimli, gesturing toward the room with flourish. “Welcome home!”

 

Legolas put down his suitcase just inside and waited for Bilbo to flip the lights so he could survey the renovations. "I can hardly believe it," he marveled. To replace the old stained flooring that creaked and groaned underfoot probably since before Gandalf’s ownership, polished deep cherry oakwood paneling had been laid. The walls were painted a neutral light green, complemented by framed metalwork in intricate twisted geometric patterns, clearly the product of dwarvish artisanship. The bar was completely new, and he walked over to it, running his long fingers across the smooth finish.

 

The Elf laughed shortly when he looked behind. "Gimli! Come look what has been built for you!"

                                            

The dwarf finally put down the bags and made his way to behind the bar. He chortled at the sight of the raised platform that jutted from the length of the base of the bar. It extended far enough for him to balance upon, but not so far as to hinder any tall folk tending alongside him. "No more stools to kick around, good."

 

Legolas laughed with a nudge to Gimli’s side, and the Dwarf only leaned into his touch when a nimble hand wove its way through his hair. “Aye, I do believe we left the right Hobbit in charge of renovations.”

 

“Would we ever choose another?” Legolas teased, and Bilbo lifted his chin imperiously.

 

“Yes, well. I certainly hope you’re satisfied with the pub as it is; I’ve had enough of bossing imperceptive big folk around to last me a lifetime.”

 

“Big folk?” Legolas blinked down at Gimli. “I thought your kin were taking charge of most of the work?”

 

Bilbo shook his head. "They were here by themselves the first days, but they would not listen to me when they got a thought in their heads to do things their way. I was nearly run out when I told them the only woodwork to be done had already been haggled with an Elvish supplier. Aragorn offered to assist me when he dropped by to check our progress, and he had a few friends who were more than happy to assist. Once there were a few Men on site, your kin’s company still deferred to them rather than to me." He grabbed a glass from under the counter and poured himself a pint.

 

"I'll take one as well," Legolas said, and took it once it was poured. "Now shall we see where you're most anxious to show us?"

 

"To the kitchen it is then! I've already been cooking and oh, stars above, if nothing else the Dwarves made a masterpiece of my space. I'm thinking of changing the menu, nothing too fancy of course but the kitchen is just inspiring!"

 

Bilbo gave them a tour of the renovated kitchen and the spruced toilets before he dug around for the spare pair of freshly cut keys by the register. Legolas took his empty glass and Gimli’s to the sink, smiling at Bilbo’s poorly smothered yawn. “Why don’t you head home? We’ll shut everything down for the evening.”

 

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed without any fuss, running a tired hand through his hair. “Yes, you’re right. I think I’ll do just that.” As Gimli walked him to the door, he wished them a good night and another welcome home, with a few congratulations thrown in, and once he’d driven away, for the first time in weeks they were alone in the pub.

 

Gimli pulled at his beard, a smile playing on his lips. "You realize this is the first time we've been in this place since we were wed."

 

Legolas fingered one of the thick braids in his own hair that Gimli had perfected since the day of their wedding. "How could I forget? With the renovations, it’s like new, this place where I came to love your silly stubborn nature.” He cocked his head to the side and smiled slyly. “Perhaps we should... Christen it? It is ours, after all."

 

Laughing quietly, Gimli locked the door and shoved the key into his back pocket before he took slow, casual steps toward his husband. “Didn’t our friendly neighborhood fusspot mention something about security cameras?”

 

“We could always…” Legolas leaned back against the bar and peered over at the camera lenses in the far corners of the room. “Obfuscate the footage.” He turned his attention fully to the Dwarf when he was near enough to touch, drawing him in between the angle of his thighs.

 

“Is it really necessary when we’ve got a perfectly private apartment upstairs?” Gimli snorted, slowly running his hands up and down Legolas’ thighs. He was rewarded (or perhaps encouraged) with the press of soft lips against his temple, his jaw.

 

“We could keep the footage all to ourselves,” Legolas hummed, drawing his fingers through Gimli’s beard and down his broad chest. Gimli squeezed his thighs.

 

“We’ve spent only three weeks abroad and you’re already a sexual deviant. What would our Hobbit say?”

 

Legolas made a noise most unbecoming of the fairest race. "I really don't plan on telling our chef that we fucked on the counter, but if you would risk his wrath, be my guest." Legolas kissed him again, and gave a nibble to the dwarf's bottom lip. "Would you have us become a boring married pair with no dalliances but between the sheets already?"

                                                                                                                           

Gimli groaned, thudding his head against his husband's chest. “I really don't think there is any worry of that happening, but your argument is compelling."

                                          

With a breath of quiet laughter, Legolas kissed the top of Gimli’s head and spread his legs a little wider to usher him closer. “Remember Fangorn?” he murmured, dragging his nails gently over Gimli’s chest. The Dwarf made a harsh little noise.

 

“Oh aye, don’t think I’ll forget any time soon.”

 

“You call me a sexual deviant, but I seem to remember a certain bearded scoundrel leaving the tent half-pitched in favour of a far less productive rut against an ancient, sacred -”

 

“Speak not of trees after how you seduced me in Moria, treacherous Elf.”

 

"You enjoyed it just as much as I. Just like you will enjoy this." Legolas reached his hands down and undid Gimli's belt. Gimli closed his eyes briefly, and quickly he helped Legolas pull him free of his trousers. "If we are doing this, then let’s get on with it."

 

Legolas was tired from the day’s long journey, and he could see from the dark circles under Gimli’s eyes that he was too; they had a shower and a nice warm bed up the stairs just waiting for them to spend the first night past their honeymoon. And still he wanted Gimli here in the space their friends and family had made their own. “You make it sound like a chore,” he teased against the Dwarf’s ear, squeezing the base of Gimli’s thick cock.

 

Gimli groaned and molded his hand over the bulge in Legolas' trousers. "Perhaps it is. But what a chore to suffer."

                                     

Blond hair fell from his shoulder as Legolas bent to press a surprisingly tender kiss to his lips. "I expect you to always suffer it with me."

 

“Already quite the bossy one, aren’t you,” Gimli said with a fond little huff as he tucked the golden strands back behind Legolas’ ear and pressed him hard into the counter. “Were we upstairs, I’d lift you by your scrawny arse and take you to bed.”

 

“Scrawny!” Legolas laughed and playfully rolled his hips forward, knocking them into Gimli’s hard stomach. “Bite your tongue!”

 

"I would rather bite yours." A challenging eyebrow was raised as he spread his wide hands over Legolas’ waist. "Could we at least sit down? I feel like a fool, standing and rutting in your hand like a youngling."

 

“I like it,” Legolas confessed, dragging his thumb over the head of Gimli’s cock and grinning from ear to ear as the Dwarf’s eyes fluttered shut. “When you’re like this, even for a moment, it makes me ache. If I could make you spend from this alone -”

 

“I would either cut my beard or kiss you,” Gimli grunted.

 

Legolas gave a devilish smirk. "Hopefully the second one. I would miss the rasp of your beard between my legs." With that he gave a hard squeeze to his shaft, and used his other hand to rub Gimli's balls.

 

The Dwarf started getting restless, not being able to touch Legolas in the same way. He started undoing the Elf’s belt, which took far longer than he wanted it to with his fingers made clumsy by Legolas’ deft attentions. Gimli drew his jaw along Legolas’ sensitive neck, mouthing at the junction of his shoulder where Legolas melted under his touch. He grunted and aligned himself as best he could with Legolas’ cock, batting the Elf’s hand away to take both of them into his own hand. “Damn fair folk, legs too long for your own good, too tall for a proper rut.”

 

“Never stopped you before,” Legolas pointed out, a little breathless.

 

But then Gimli drew back, letting both of their cocks go. "Maybe it doesn't have to be a problem at all. Follow me!"

 

Legolas watched as Gimli walked awkwardly with an erection to behind the bar, where he jumped up on the platform with a grin on his face. "Now I'm nearly as tall as you, so get over here."

 

With a surprised laugh, Legolas pressed himself to his stomach and followed Gimli’s path. “I would lift you atop the bar if you’d prefer! But oh, Bilbo would be displeased.”

 

“You understate his emotions entirely, my treasure,” Gimli snorted, reaching for Legolas. He was taller still, but close enough to Gimli’s face that he had only to stand on his toes to tilt his husband’s face down to kiss him soundly. It was Legolas’ turn to press him back against the bar, peppering half a dozen kisses into his beard.

 

“I should personally thank your cousins for this,” Legolas tapped the discrete platform with his toe, and Gimli barked with laughter,

 

“Don’t you dare! They’d draw their own suspicious conclusions.” The dwarf rolled his hips forward, glad that their groins actually mostly met up this time. He once again grabbed hold of both cocks, without the awkwardness that came with their height difference.

 

Legolas groaned against the corner of Gimli’s mouth. Were they on a bed, he would have continued his affection all down his hairy chest, possibly until he reached Gimli’s cock. The Elf so did love taking the thick cock between his lips, to have the weight of it on his tongue. It was a tempting prospect, to fall to his knees and have him there.

                              

But for now, he slowly pressed his body into Gimli’s until they were flush chest to chest and he could dip his chin over Gimli’s shoulder. His mouth fell open with a soft noise when Gimli gripped him by the waist and used him to rut forward, jerking with an unorthodox rhythm when Legolas’ hips snapped forward more than once of their own volition.

 

Gimli kept up the rhythm, gripping the firm globes of Legolas’ arse tight in his hands. On a thrust, he moved one of his fingers to rub between Legolas' cheeks, and even though he could not feel his hole through the layers of clothes, he could tell when he touched it by the elf's reaction.

 

"By the Valar! You don't play fair, you cheating Dwarf."

 

Chuckling, Gimli ran his nails up under Legolas’ untucked shirt. “I’m trying to get you to bed, you mad Elf, and if I must play dirty to get what I want then so be it.”

 

“You think I want to take my precious time with you in the middle of our pub?” Legolas laughed breathlessly, knocking his temple against Gimli’s. “Truth be told, I don’t know why you haven’t tried harder to finish the job quickly.”

 

Gimli grunted in frustration, rolling his hips to try and get as much of his crotch in contact with Legolas'. "Do you know what I would do to you if we were taking our time in bed? I would slowly stretch out that hole of yours, might spend an hour, just so I could watch you squirm. You would beg for my cock, but I would make you wait, maybe tie your hands to the headboard so you couldn't touch yourself. Would you like that?"

 

"Mhmn," Legolas answered quietly, tugging on Gimli's beard as he imagined it. His breath hitched when Gimli took him by the backs of his thighs, scrambling to find purchase on the countertop when his husband hefted him up an inch from the ground only to plant him back down with his legs spread further apart. Those arms could lift him and hold him down and put him any way they liked, as far as he was concerned.

 

"Perhaps I would fuck you with one of the toys we've gathered, that curved one that makes you shout." Gimli spit on his hand, and once again took both cocks, squeezing the heads before drifting down to the base. "I would let you come then, but only from being pleasured by the toy."

 

“Please let me come,” Legolas panted, his hips jerking in anticipation from the thought alone. “ _Meleth nîn_ , my love, let me -”

 

“Shall I?” Gimli dragged his mouth to the sensitive curve of Legolas’ ear. “You wanted this in the first place, did you not? You insisted, and now you want it to end so soon?”

 

"Yes! Please, Gimli stop teasing me!" Legolas wrapped his arms tightly around the dwarf's neck, pulling him as close as possible. "I will do anything, anything you ask, but you must let me -!”

 

Now, that was an intriguing offer. Gimli set to work, moving his hand up and down quickly, and even let go of his own cock so that he could just concentrate on the longer one.

 

“I think you’ll be cleaning the bar,” Gimli said thoughtfully and Legolas’ startled chiming laughter reverberated against Gimli’s own chest half a second before he jerked and spilled all over Gimli’s hand. His giggles didn’t stop after Gimli made a comment about the mess, boneless and draped over him like a big blond blanket, and Gimli had something to say about that. Between his fussing he pressed little kisses to Legolas’ temple and held him steady on his weak fawn legs.

 

It didn't take Legolas long to regain his composure, which one would think difficult with cum drying on your belly and your cock out, but somehow he did it. Without moving from where he’d pressed against Gimli, his hand began to descend toward Gimli’s pelvis. "Let me -"

                                                                                 

"It can wait until we are upstairs. Don't worry, I don't plan on going unspent all night."

 

Legolas let himself be tucked away and zipped back up, sighing warmly into Gimli’s neck. Gimli winced as he adjusted himself and looked down at his sullied hand with a grimace. “Come on then, you great lead weight, let’s get you upstairs and we’ll see what we can get up to in that shower I’ve missed so much.”


	2. I heard your song before my heart had time to hush it

It was three o’clock on a Wednesday, so naturally the only customers in the pub were an elderly Hobbit pair with their hands around twin mugs of tea and a plate of sandwiches before them. But when the front door banged open and suddenly boisterous noise filled the room, Legolas chuckled to himself. “They’re here. I’ll tell Bilbo.”

 

Gimli looked up from cleaning the bar to see his two cousins bustling in through the door, baggage in hand. “There he is! Come here little Gimli, and give us a hug!” Fíli shouted, scaring the old couple as he dropped his bags and strode to the bar.

 

The shorter Dwarf held up an empty beer bottle, shaking it at him like a threat. “I will not be goosed today, don’t think I can’t see through you!”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Fíli insisted with a hand over his heart, flopping down at the bar. Kíli followed with both of their bags and thrust them over the counter at Gimli, who had no choice but to set his bottle down and take them. A suspicious eye was cast on both brothers, whose innocent smiles were the surest sign that they were up to something.

 

“How was the honeymoon, wee Gimli?”

 

“Don’t ask him that,” Kíli groaned, thumping Fíli on the chest. “That’s the _last_ thing I want to know.”

 

His elder brother just shrugged. “Speaking of, where’s the blushing groom? Not still stuck in bed I hope.”

                                 

“It wasn’t I was sore coming back from our honeymoon,” Legolas said as he emerged from the kitchens, Bilbo trailing behind. Over their shouts of protest, Bilbo admonished them firmly.

 

“You both know where your rooms are, don’t expect hotel service to take your bags up for you.”

 

Kíli made retching noises and Fíli wrinkled his nose, and as soon as Bilbo was close enough to touch, Kíli leaned over the counter on his elbows. “Bilbo, tell the Elf not to say such terrible things in the presence of polite company.”

 

Bilbo scoffed. “You two are the farthest thing from polite company this pub has ever seen.”

 

“A fight broke out last week,” Legolas pointed out, and Bilbo nodded.

 

“Oh yes, I am aware.”

 

Between the two of them and their pouts and their soft doe eyes, Bilbo found himself retreating to the kitchen only to return with two bowls of ice cream and a stern reprimand for the both of them.

 

“You treat them like children,” Gimli snorted, “and then you chastise them for behaving like children. It’s a wonder your Frodo is so well-behaved.”

 

“The lad practically raised himself, these two on the other hand could benefit from being taken over the knee.” The short Hobbit crossed his arms and tried to look authoritative even as the brothers grinned cheekily at each other.

                                                                                                                           

Fíli had a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I wouldn’t try spanking Kíli, he’s liable to like it.”

 

The brunet kicked his brother in the shin hard enough for him to double over the counter. “You’re one to talk! Come on, we’ll finish our ice cream upstairs before we scare away all of their customers.”

 

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all week, I’d wager,” Gimli said, folding his arms over his chest as the two of them retreated up to his and Legolas’ apartment.

 

They did not reappear until much later in the evening when the sound of idle chatter and music seeped up through the floorboards and filled the entire building. The sun had long set and the new pub lighting that they had installed themselves gave the whole room a pleasantly warm and golden glow. Gimli and Legolas had their work cut out for them manning the bar, so naturally that was where they gravitated first.

 

“Pour me a pint there, would you?”

 

“You’ll be paying for it,” Gimli said as he set two pints of bitter for a server to whisk away.

                                                                                    

Fíli gasped, looking surprised. “We’re family!”

 

“Distant cousins, that hardly gives you free drinking privileges. Here’s a menu.” He handed over the laminated menu before quickly going back to making drinks, since they were a bit behind. Even now one of the waitresses was handing another order to Legolas. The Elf filled her order and Fíli’s before either of them could blink, and once the waitress was off he slid Fíli’s pint over to him with a little smile.

 

“Where’s mine?” Kíli protested, and Gimli set a chilled bottle in front of him. Before he could say anything to that, Gimli wagged a finger at him.

 

“Don’t pester him, you troublemaking whelp. We both know you don’t like lager enough to drink even _half_ a pint, so take the sweet wine and keep out of our hair.”

 

He closed his mouth and took the wine with a surly nod.

 

Fíli put an arm around his younger brother with a little snicker. “Just don’t let the pretty waitress see you drinking the girly stuff. What’s her name anyway? I’ve never seen her before.” He caught Gimli’s eye before nodding toward the tall Elf near the door.

                                                 

“She’s not a waitress, she’s our new bouncer. We hired her after the fight last week.”

 

Kíli cocked his head to the side thoughtfully before he took a sip of his wine. “Maybe you can’t get a girlfriend because you condescend to their tasty drinks, brother,” he said pleasantly and slid off the barstool to wander through the crowd.

 

When Gandalf ran the pub, it just felt smaller, cozier though the space remained the same. It was frequented by travellers, by friends and family and gentle folk looking for a tune and a pint. If he was being honest, it was not as different as he might have suspected since it had changed hands to Legolas and Gimli. The crowd was perhaps a bit younger than it used to be, but it was still a fairly laid back feel, outside a few bar fights.

 

The two owners were busy for the next few hours, but Fíli and Kíli passed the time by chatting up the patrons, listening to their stories and telling some of their own. At around ten, it started calming down, and there were only a few tables left full. The night had been fairly quiet until then, and Kíli noticed that for the whole night, the tall Elf remained motionless and ever-vigilant at the door.

 

“Say,” he muttered to Legolas over the bar, his eyes flickering back toward the redheaded maiden for the hundredth time that night. “You’re an Elf.”

 

“An astute observation,” Legolas murmured back, rubbing the bartop over with a cloth. But his tone was not unkind and when Kíli finally looked at him, his light eyes danced. Kíli made a face and nodded toward the door.

 

“She’s an Elf, too. Do you - I mean, do you two -” He gestured vaguely and Legolas’ mouth twitched.

 

“Do we what?”

 

“Know each other?”

 

“Do you know every Dwarf this side of the mountain?” Legolas asked and Kíli did not intend it, but his face went a little hot. Gimli snorted from where he stood drying a freshly cleaned glass a few feet away.

 

“He does not know you tease, my treasure,” he said, taking Kíli’s bottle from his hand and stowing it behind the bar. Legolas dipped his head as though to hide his smile.

 

“Forgive me,” he laughed. “Yes Kíli, Tauriel and I have known each other for a great many centuries. Why do you ask?”

 

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “I was just… wondering if you’ve ever… ever known her to befriend a Dwarf.”

 

“Well, she is fond of Gimli. But I’m afraid I cannot speak for her romantic preferences.” Kíli made an aborted noise of protest as Legolas glanced to the door, where one of the older ladies was trying to speak to Tauriel. “In truth, I have never known her to court at all. I used to be quite taken with her, and would probably have made a move if I wasn’t worried that she would stick an arrow through me.” He laughed at Kíli’s expression, setting the glass down on the tabletop. “She gets off at eleven if you want to buy her a drink then. Not before.”

 

“I wouldn’t presume to... I mean -”

 

“You have a preference for redheads, then?” Fíli asked, dropping down beside him at the bar with a little knowing nod toward Legolas. “Can’t say I see any other similarities between our wee cousin and your bouncer, but -”

 

“They are both quite ferocious, I suppose,” Legolas said with a thoughtful glance toward the ceiling. “Hardworking. Stubborn to a fault. Loyal. Unerringly fond of expensive weaponry and harlequin novels. Oh, perhaps I do have a type after all.”

 

Gimli smirked under his beard. “Yes, but I am far prettier.”

 

“Don’t walk away from me!”

 

The yell rang out loud through the pub, and the pub went quiet, everyone’s attentions focused on a table near the far corner of the room where a customer was standing, the arm of his waitress in his fist.

 

The Hobbit lass stuck her nose up defiantly even as her lower lip trembled. “Let me go!” She tried to yank out of his grasp, and though the three Dwarrow and the Elf moved to assist her, Tauriel managed to reach them first.

                                                                                    

“Do we have a problem here?” she asked cooly, towering over them both. The Man’s face was red with either drink or anger. Possibly both. He didn’t seem aware of the eyes all over the room on the spectacle he was making.

 

“This doesn’t concern you, Elf wench.”

 

With narrowed eyes, Tauriel’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. “I think you ought to let go, sir. We don’t allow anyone under this roof to be treated with such hostility.”

 

He let go of the girl in his grip, who stumbled backward to be caught by Kíli who was nearest, and in helping her to stand on shaky legs he missed the swing the Man took at Tauriel. He did not, however, miss the truly incredible sight that followed.

 

In one fluid motion, the Elf had gripped the Man by the back of his cloak and turned, using a jaw-dropping amount of strength to throw him over her shoulder. He fell in a heap on the floor, gasping for breath, and Tauriel stood straight again with a scowl on her face. “Your business here is done.”

 

The man looked up at her in fear, and scrambled to his feet before stumbling toward the door with a slight limp. When he was gone, a couple other tables of customers started clapping, and Kíli couldn't take his eyes off the Elf who began to straighten the chairs as though nothing had happened.

 

"That was... amazing!" the young Dwarf said, watching her with wide eyes.

 

Tauriel turned around and glanced him up and down. “I was just doing my job,” she said with an even tone. Not a single strand of hair was out of place, and her complexion was fair. It was as though she hadn’t just thrown a human being to the floor at all.

 

“It was phenomenal!” Kíli insisted, and his awe must have been overwhelming for she lowered her eyes.

 

"It wasn't anything special. That move is taught to the greenest soldiers of the royal guard. A child could have managed it."

 

“Royal - you were a royal guard?”

 

“Don’t be modest.” Gimli had eyes only for the shaken young Hobbit across the bar, to whom Legolas was speaking gentle words and helping into her coat, but his words were directed toward their conversation. “You were captain of the king’s guard. There’s no point in humility where none need exist.”

 

Kíli wouldn’t be surprised if his eyes popped out of his head. Tauriel smiled at Gimli, and then at Kíli. “Thank you for your help.”

 

“ _My_ help?” Kíli felt a little hot under the collar beneath the weight of her smile. “I didn’t do anything - you tossed a man over your head as though he weighed nothing at all, I haven’t -”

 

“The girl,” she thankfully cut in before he could ramble on. She looked amused, though, which meant she was not annoyed, which meant Kíli was not going to have to throw himself in the river. “I believe she would have fallen if you had not been there to catch her. I would not have been able to prevent that, so I thank you.”

 

He swallowed, taking a second to think about what he was going to say this time. “Right, it was the least I could do.” Kíli stood awkwardly when she didn’t say anything back, wondering if he should continue the conversation. “My name is Kíli, by the way. That over there is my brother, Fíli. We’re-”

 

“Gimli’s kin. I know. My name is Tauriel.” She held out a hand in the greeting of Men, and Kíli took it gratefully. Her hand was soft, but for the callouses that he realized with a jolt he wanted to be a little more familiar with as she pulled it away with a warm smile.

 

“Tauriel. Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“Likewise.”

 

He opened his mouth to say something stupid, probably, but she took a step back and turned her head toward the door. “I’m on duty, I should…”

 

“Yes, of course. Um. I suppose I shouldn’t offer you a drink then,” he laughed awkwardly, and Gimli clapped him on the back.

 

“Why don’t you come back to the bar, cousin.” The shorter Dwarf pulled him away from her to go and sit. After the commotion, the patrons slowly began to trickle out, so Gimli had some time to speak with his cousin.

 

After a few moments when their conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, Kíli finally took his attention away from the door. “Gimli. You seem short-staffed here. You should hire me! Don’t look at me like that; I could do dishes, or help out front, or whatever you want me to do. You know I have a good work ethic.” They had not told their mother when they would be returning to the mountain, and he was certainly in no hurry to get back.

 

“We’re doing just fine as it is. Most days it’s fairly slow work.”

 

“All the better then,” Kíli said with a sly grin as he glanced back toward the door where Tauriel stood, tall and ever-watchful. Gimli leaned forward conspiratorially and quirked a brow.

 

“You don’t stand a chance,” he laughed, slamming a bottle down by Kíli’s hand before his jaw could drop too far. “She’s not looking, cousin. And if she was, you wouldn’t be her type.”

 

Kíli’s face fell. “She isn’t the _only_ reason I want to work here. Things have grown dull at home, this would be a good job for me. Fíli wanted to spend some time away as well, while he still can.” He looked down to the table, looking put off. “We wouldn’t stay at your place the whole time, of course. Please?”

 

There were a few seconds of silence, mostly because Gimli liked to make his cousin sweat. “Well… I could never say no to you anyway. You can start tomorrow, I’ll speak to Legolas about it.”

 

Before Kíli could say anything, a voice from behind his ear made him jump violently. “Though you may be family, we cannot give you exception.”

 

“Mahal’s cock, Elf, must you sneak as silently as a - a kitten’s ghost?!”

 

Legolas smiled, and when he tilted his head Gimli’s thick love braid fell over his shoulder. “Apologies. But my word still stands.”

 

“Aye,” Gimli agreed. “You’ll have to follow all the rules, Kíli. You’ll have to be punctual, well-behaved, follow all the regulations. I won’t hesitate to toss you out on your arse or call your mother if you give us any more trouble than necessary.”

 

Kíli smiled and stood up, clapping Legolas on the back. “You won’t regret this, I promise you! What time shall I start tomorrow?”

 

Gimli shook his head, chuckling. “A good eight hours will be fine, one o’clock to nine. You’ll most likely be running errands for Bilbo.”

 

“Errands?” Kíli whined, glancing at the door. “But, Gimli -”

 

“I thought you had _other_ reasons for working for us,” Gimli said, tapping his nose. It was in mockery, he realized only a moment later, and took a contemptuous swig of his drink.

 

“Right. I-I’ll take anything I can get, I suppose.” Kíli took another drink from his sweet wine, once again glancing over at the door. “I just want to… to get to know her more. I understand that most Elves would not consider a Dwarf, especially one so great as she. I am not an idiot, cousin, I understand my chances.”

 

Legolas sighed and put a hand on Kíli’s shoulder. “Alright, I will tell you this. She is fond of ancient poetry. I wouldn’t go as far to recite it to her, but, if you were to know it, even a little by heart, and she mentioned it first…”

 

“Anything else?” he asked eagerly, and Legolas smirked before he made his way behind the bar.

 

“If you would like to know more of her, you should ask her yourself, Master Kíli. She might shear all my hair off in the dead of night if I divulge too much.”

 

“Well, we can’t have that,” Fíli snorted as he plonked down beside his brother and pointedly eyed the bold declaration their cousin had woven into the Elf’s fair hair.

 

At that, Gimli stopped laughing. “If you are the cause of any harm to his hair, I will personally skin you alive.” By the look in his eyes, it was no joke.

 

Legolas leaned over and kissed his husband’s temple. “Don’t fret. My hair will be safe.” He leaned in and whispered something in Gimli’s ear, and above his beard Kíli could just see the beginnings of a blush.

 

“I think that’s enough family time for one day,” Fíli said, clapping a hand over his brother’s shoulder and nodding his head toward the door that lead to Legolas and Gimli’s staircase. “Shall we retire before they start to spout poetry to each other, brother?”

 

Kíli’s first reaction was to stand at Fíli’s word, but he stopped himself before he could walk away. “Ah. Well. I was thinking I might help Bilbo in the kitchen.”

 

His brother looked at him in confusion. “Trying to steal some food?”

 

“No, I’m actually going to help. I… asked for a job here. I’ll meet you in the room in a bit.” He patted his brother on the shoulder and walked right into the kitchen. Bilbo was grateful for the help, even if he was mostly just cleaning dishes.

 

At eleven sharp, the door opened and Tauriel walked in toward the back, where she grabbed her jacket. On the way out she stopped and looked at them both. “Goodnight.” And then to Kíli alone, “A pleasure to meet you.”

 

His smile was huge. “And you! Goodnight!”

 

Bilbo bade her goodnight as well, and a moment after she left, Kíli slumped dramatically against the Hobbit, who huffed but did very little to discourage his embrace. “Would it not be insulting to ask a warrior goddess if she’d like me to walk her to her car, Mister Boggins?” he despaired. Bilbo thought on it for a moment before he agreed, and Kíli blew Bilbo’s curls away from his mouth.

 

“One day at a time, my boy,” Bilbo encouraged, patting him on the back. “You cannot possibly act like a heartsick child after meeting her once.”

 

“She’s lovely, Bilbo,” Kíli cried. “A warrior with hair like fire and hands as soft as silk. I think she must walk in starlight in another world.” He sighed, and went back to drying the last of the dishes. “It’s nothing like love at first sight, I am not so foolish as that. But I might like to know her.”

 

Bilbo shook his head, putting the finishing touches on a large platter of sandwiches. “It is foolish to chase love at all. It is a game for the young.”

 

“Young! I am a good thirty years older than you!”

 

“You are young by your standards, so I’ll call you what I like,” Bilbo sniffed, and held the plate out to Kíli. “Here. Take this and deliver it to your brother. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

 

With a lopsided grin, Kíli took the plate and bowed low without dropping a single bit. “Ever at your service, Mister Boggins.”


	3. to where I’m unfresh, undressed, and yawning

Legolas glanced down from his book when Gimli shifted under the covers, a soft noise rumbling from the back of his throat. But he hadn’t yet awoken, just seemed to be finding a more comfortable position for his legs, so Legolas went back to reading. The golden light of morning filtered in through the window, but had yet to reach the bed. There was no harm in letting the Dwarf sleep in a bit longer.

 

Once he’d turned a new page, Legolas’ right hand lowered to fold over Gimli’s hair where it brushed a few errant strands back from his brow. His attention wandered from the book once more and onto his husband, whose arm had come to rest over Legolas’ hip what seemed like hours ago. Gimli’s thick sleep braid was slightly mussed, and Legolas only barely kept himself from reaching down to undo it entirely. He would have his chance to brush Gimli’s fiery mane later, when doing so would not rouse him from his well-earned slumber.

 

Truth be told, it was one of the nice things about owning a pub; they didn't open until the afternoon, so Gimli always had time for a long, lazy morning. Most mornings they spent time in the garden behind old pub, where Legolas could shoot at long-range targets and Gimli could watch. But there were occasional mornings like this one where they didn't leave the bed until late morning.

 

Naturally Legolas did not sleep half as much as Gimli and never with his eyes shut, so it was fairly common for him to spend long hours reading in bed, waiting for his husband to wake. The Dwarf would never admit to it but Legolas knew that he didn't like waking to an empty bed.

 

Only too happy to oblige him, Legolas had taken to rising when Gimli did each morning, pleased that every night gave him an ample amount of time to sit and admire his mortal spouse without interruption. The way Gimli’s hair twisted and curled between his fingers was as familiar to him now as breathing, and every precious line of his body was etched into Legolas’ mind like a brand.

 

His fingertips kissed the curve of Gimli’s ear and the slope of his nose, which wrinkled until Legolas bade them to delve back into his dark red hair.

 

“What’re y’ up to?” Gimli grumbled, cracking one eye open.

 

“Just reading.” Legolas put his book down and leaned down, kissing Gimli’s brow. “I’ll give you a proper kiss one you’ve cleaned your teeth.”

 

Gimli groaned as he rolled out of bed and ambled to the bathroom, where there was more grumbling, even as he brushed his teeth. “How do you always look so unruffled this early in the morning? It’s unnatural, I tell you.”

 

Legolas laughed quietly and set his book aside before he made his way into the cozy kitchenette. Gimli didn’t follow him back out until a steady drip of dark coffee began to fill the coffee pot. “I beg your pardon, friend Elf,” he grumbled hoarsely, “but I believe I am owed what is due to me per your conditions.”

 

“Master Dwarf, I would not dream of breaking our terms of agreement,” Legolas said gravely. He took two mugs down from the cabinet before turning to be dragged down by the tunic.

 

Gimli’s lips carried the taste of mint, and Legolas chased it with his tongue. Nimble fingers carded through the Dwarf’s thick fiery hair, pulling it from its braid. “And a good morning to you,” Gimli chuckled, only pulling away from his lips for a second before diving in again. His morning wood had returned, making itself known through thin sleep pants. Legolas smiled and murmured something about it against Gimli’s lips. “I won’t suffer your teasing,” Gimli growled, sliding a hand through Legolas’ unbraided hair. “You’re not the poor fool who has to wake up to your damnably fair face every morning.”

 

“Are you not happy to wake up next to me? I could always leave before you wake.” Legolas settled his arms around Gimli’s shoulders, the only spot he could reach without bending low.

 

The Dwarf looked up at him, seeming even grumpier. “I know you jest,” he muttered, because they both knew he rested easy knowing he would wake to see Legolas there. “Just leave me to my grumblings, I am still tired. And frustrated. We haven’t had time to tumble in a week with the brothers from hell here.”

 

“I have missed you, too,” Legolas confessed, pulling his fingers through his husband’s thick beard. “I have enjoyed the presence of your kin, but sometimes I cannot help but miss having you to myself.”

 

“Perhaps we could find them new accommodation?” Gimli said thoughtfully, pulling away only to heft himself up onto the island counter and spread his legs, beckoning Legolas closer.

 

The Elf raised a thin eyebrow at that. It was normally him making advances outside of the bedroom. “Well look at you! It really has been too long if you’re feeling so forward.” It was much easier to kiss him at this height, and Legolas took full advantage. He ran a hand over Gimli’s hairy chest, enjoying the coarse feel against his fingers.

 

He must have been focused on Gimli far more than he thought, because Legolas didn’t notice their audience until there was a gasp and a gagging sound from the door. “Seriously? In the kitchen?”

 

Before Legolas could blink, Gimli had groped around in the fruit bowl and chucked an orange in their direction. They tried to dodge but it managed to bounce off of Kíli’s head regardless. “It’s our kitchen to do with as we like, you nosy brats.”

 

“Why can’t you keep all your… affectionate displays in the bedroom long after dark like normal couples?” Kíli moaned, covering his eyes with both hands.

 

“If you two found your own place, you wouldn’t have to deal with our _abnormal_ amount of affection,” Legolas said, but pulled away regardless. “There is coffee if you want any.” He motioned to Gimli to follow him back to their bedroom. “We still have an hour before we must be ready for work. Shall we quench our dry spell?”

 

There were twin groans from the kitchen, and they could hear the brothers decide to go out for breakfast.

 

They shared a conspiratorial grin until they could hear the front door slam shut, and Legolas took Gimli’s broad hand in his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I believe we have bought ourselves a free morning.”

 

“If only we’d known that putting our hands over each other in open spaces would give us more time to do exactly that,” Gimli laughed, and turned his hand to cup Legolas’ jaw.

 

“And now, we can be as loud as we like without worrying about anyone hearing.” Legolas bit his lip in the way he knew drove Gimli wild, and sat down on the bed, pulling the Dwarf with him. “Now, no more talk of our houseguests for at least an hour.”

 

“Talk of who?” Gimli rumbled, leaning down to press his mouth to Legolas’ neck. “The only guest I know of is the one that makes the _rudest_ appearances beneath my trousers at the most inconvenient times.”

 

“Ah, the one I met in the kitchen, you mean?” Legolas laughed, head tilted back obligingly so Gimli could mouth along his sensitive neck. “I like him.”

 

Gimli chuckled and pressed his hips forward. "I think he likes you too." The redhead pushed his sleep pants down to let his cock spring forward. When he moved on to the Elf’s sleepclothes, Legolas lifted his hips to make it easier for him, reclining back onto the bed and moving himself to the center so Gimli could disrobe and follow.

 

“Shame we couldn’t finish this in the kitchen,” Legolas said mournfully, sliding his hands up Gimli’s torso. “It’s been so long since we’ve dallied there.”

 

"Bilbo was pretty upset with us that one time he caught us. Maybe we should keep it to plush surfaces from now on," Gimli grunted, shifting closer. "Easier on my bones too."

 

Legolas grabbed the dwarf by the hips, grinding their cocks together. "I think your bone feels just fine."

 

“My wordsmith,” Gimli teased, manhandling Legolas until one of his knees was hooked high in the crook of Gimli’s elbow. “How can you be so clever?”

 

“It is a gift some of us are given that others are not,” Legolas laughed, reaching his arms high above his head and stretching luxuriously.

 

The bed squeaked as Gimli pushed himself up on the bed more. “Do you want me to grab the oil? Or I could use my mouth,” the redhead asked, pressing close.

 

“Oil. I need you to fuck me, it’s been too long.” Legolas untangled his legs from around Gimli, letting him reach over to the drawer where they kept the oils and various implements for adventurous nights between the sheets.

 

Legolas’ tongue darted out between his lips as he eyed the bottle of oil in Gimli’s left hand and the familiar, lovingly-crafted gift he’d forged with his own two hands during their third year together. The intricately sculpted steel was thick and dark in Gimli’s hand, the wider tip hidden in his wide palm to warm it; with the other hand he worked a slick blunt finger inside Legolas to ease him open.

 

“You’re so playful in the morning. I like it.” Legolas let his legs fall open, and within a few seconds Gimli was pressing the oiled toy against his entrance. “It’s still cold.” Legolas complained, but did nothing to discourage Gimli from pushing past his resisting muscle.

 

Gimli pulled it out to its widest part, and then pushed it back in. He loved watching the elf’s muscle stretch around things, and using the toy was perfect for a show.

 

He murmured something in the tongue of his ancestors, deep and rough and enough to make Legolas’ cock twitch against his belly - just as Gimli knew it would. A grin curled at the corners of his lips and he liberally coated the toy a second time before pressing it back in again and again until the rhythm had Legolas rocking slowly with it, his bright blue eyes fluttering shut. “ _Ghivashel_ ,” he murmured, twisting and pressing in. Legolas’ face twisted and slackened, his mouth falling open in a silent cry.

 

“You’re tighter than normal. I probably am too. We’ve waited too long for this.” Gimli leaned down and ran a finger around the stretched muscles on one side, and he licked up the other side. He could feel Legolas shivering beneath him from restrained pleasure.

 

The elf lifted one of his legs higher, letting out a shameless moan. “You’re so clever with your tongue, too bad it - _ah!-_ i-is not so with words.”

 

Gimli nipped at the inside of his thigh and Legolas let out a guttural moan, pulling gently at Gimli’s hair. “I give you my love, and you offer me insult in return?” Gimli teased, biting again at the jut of Legolas’ hip before nuzzling at the soft golden hairs from his navel downward.

 

“I offer insult and all the rest of me,” Legolas answered, all at once spreading his legs wider for emphasis.

 

Blunt fingers pulled the smooth toy from him, dropping it on the sheets. "I think I'll take that to mean you want the real thing, then?" But Gimli couldn't resist pushing in two fingers, just to see how tight he still was. Just to be safe, he added a third, not wanting to hurt his husband.

 

"Mmn, then why not give me what I need? You know I won't break."

 

“You know why,” Gimli said into his hip, and nudged his thumb up and up and inside until the ancient warrior prince squeaked like a mouse and shook from trying not to thrash. His knee knocked Gimli’s side, and one hand fisted in the loose waves at the back of Gimli’s head. “Aye, I must admit, your reaction is partially to blame. I do love to draw you out.”

 

Legolas pushed his hips off the bed, as though he were trying to force Gimli’s fingers deeper. "Who cares about my _reaction_ , just-!" He gave a whine when the sweet little spot inside him was dragged over by a finger, but it would feel so much better to have Gimli's thick cock instead.

 

“ _I_ care about your reaction,” Gimli insisted, and crooked his finger to make Legolas’ breath go short again. He let out a very undignified whimper and closed his eyes.

 

“There’s not enough time,” Legolas insisted pathetically, palming at his cock. “Gimli, _meleth nîn_ \- my love, sweetest heart -”

 

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Gimli said, and with a roguish grin and with one last slow drag he pulled his hand away and applied a generous amount of oil to the hot, stretched skin. He liberally coated his cock with the same before taking one of Legolas’ knees to hook over his shoulder.

 

With a thrust he pushed in, and there were twin groans as the heat enveloped his cock. Gimli bent down, pressing kisses to the elf's sternum, dipping his tongue in his navel. Legolas moved his hips, squeezing around his cock, and leaned up on his elbows so they could kiss. The shift in position had them both gasping, and Legolas deftly rolled Gimli onto his back. The action had Gimli slipping out of Legolas with a grunt, but when the Elf straddled him and sank down slowly, it was bliss. “Oh, Gimli,” Legolas sighed, nudging his hips in a slow circle that had Gimli’s eyes rolling back.

 

Gimli reached down and fisted Legolas' cock. "Ah, you're a beast, I can't keep pace with you," Gimli panted, his free hand grasping at Legolas' hip.

 

"You,” he hummed, “seem to do just fine." The elf bent down and kissed him again, didn't seem to want to stop. Gimli’s thick fingers twisted in his fair hair and with the other hand he gripped Legolas’ thigh. He was sensitive there, and the pressure of Gimli’s fingers made him gasp and twitch. When his fingers flexed, Legolas’ startled giggle made Gimli laugh, and his hips gave an upward punch.

 

"Don't laugh, you know I am ticklish there," Legolas complained, squeezing his muscles around Gimli's cock. "Just -ah- touch me please, I beg you, my love."

 

"You know I do love it when you beg, your majesty." Gimli moved his hand over the Elf's cock, letting go for a second to palm his balls.

 

Opening his eyes to look deeply into Gimli’s, pupils blown wide, Legolas breathed hotly over his mouth. “I would kneel at your feet if only you asked, just don’t - don’t stop.”

 

“Oh? And what would you do if I did stop?”

 

“Don’t _tease_ ,” Legolas panted, burying his face in Gimli’s shoulder.

 

Gimli chuckled, thrusting deep, and biting up Legolas' neck till he reached his ear. "I seem to remember you like being teased." But he sped up his hand, and Legolas moved over his hips faster until he was practically bouncing on his thick cock. "Ah, Mahal's beard, I'm gonna-"

 

"Yes, Gimli, please!"

                 

Sinking his teeth into Gimli’s shoulder, Legolas tightened around his cock and came hard over Gimli’s stomach. The noise his orgasm dragged out of him triggered Gimli’s and his hands tightened around Legolas’ thighs, thrusting up into his body until his entire body went limp. Legolas all but melted over Gimli’s body, stretching out until Gimli slipped out of his aching hole with a contented sigh.

 

Legolas moved down the bed enough so that he could kiss Gimli lazily on the mouth without bending. "It is probably for the best that Fíli and Kíli went out. Though I might hear Bilbo downstairs, so we might be scolded yet.”

 

"I can't understand how we are married and can still be reprimanded for having sex." Gimli turned and threw an arm around his husband, closing his eyes. 

 

But Legolas laughed and tried to push him back. "No no no, I know you get tired after an orgasm but we have no time for a nap. Get up, come on."

 

"Weren't you just promising to beg at my feet," Gimli grumbled, pulling Legolas closer just to spite him, "and now you're demanding I forego a post-coital doze with my husband?"

"We all say mad things when we want to come," Legolas insisted. But he pressed his forehead to Gimli's and closed his eyes. "Perhaps I could allow ten minutes if respite. But we really must compose ourselves after that!"

 

Gimli grumbled but nodded. "I'll take what I can get, then." He once again wound his arms around the lithe Elf, and pressed his face into his collar.

 

"Only ten minutes." Legolas reminded him, weaving his fingers through fiery red hair.

 

"Aye, ten minutes." Gimli mumbled, sounding like he was already drifting off.


	4. groping blindly, hungry for anything

“What do you _mean_ they’ve already eaten all the finger sandwiches?” Bilbo’s eyebrows nearly disappearing into the golden curls over his forehead. Kíli and Legolas exchanged a look and Legolas didn’t even try to suppress his smile.

 

“I know,” he said with a great air of understanding. Bilbo made a shrill, incredulous noise.

 

“There were four full platters!”

 

“I know.”

 

“You could’ve reached elbow-deep into those stacks!”

 

“Bilbo,” Kíli sighed, clapping both hands on the Hobbit’s shoulders. “Please try to remember whose idea it was to invite a company of Dwarrow to a party.”

 

“It was yours!” Bilbo cried in unison with Legolas, who was calmer but no less amused, and Kíli’s mouth curled into an indignant pout.

 

“Fíli’s too!”

 

The door banged open, and a very red faced Gimli stumbled into the kitchen. "Lord Goldenarse,” he harrumphed, swaggering forward. “I thought you were getting more ale!" He leaned heavily on the counter once he was near enough for Legolas to catch the potent scent of ale on his breath.

 

Legolas raised his eyebrow at his tipsy husband. "Goldenarse?"

 

"Nori called you that and I believe I like it. Might be my new pet name. ‘s funny."

 

"...Right. Well you did not send me for ale, but you could go get it yourself if you think you can manage the stairs." Legolas quickly set to helping Bilbo with the food, seeing as they were quite possibly two of the few sober ones left at the party. A Hobbit could outdrink a Dwarf easily two times over, and even then only an Elf could best a Hobbit in tolerance. It made hosting a party of Dwarrow equal parts exhausting and amusing, watching them fall apart with drink before it could even give Bilbo a pleasant warmth in his belly.

               

Gimli looked confused, an easy feat when one had nearly emptied a tankard of ale on one’s own. "Ah, might have been talking to your cousin. Might have told him I wanted to stick my face in his arse. You can deal with that, can't you?" He made a zigzag line to the cellar where the ale was kept.

 

Kíli looked pointedly at Legolas with some measure of amusement and concern, but the Elf just shook his head. "He calls the willow out back my cousin. I believe he thinks he's being funny."

 

"It is a little funny," Kíli admitted, and grinned broadly when Legolas shook his head.

 

"Will they be content with an entire roast ham?" Bilbo pondered half to himself, frowning at the full stove just as a little body came careening through the kitchen to attach itself to the back of his legs.

 

"Frodo!” he scolded, though not with nearly the same amount of vigor he normally used to berate Kíli. “You shouldn't be running in the kitchen, you know that. Too many hot surfaces and sharp things for little Hobbits!"

 

Frodo smiled apologetically and buried his face in the back of Bilbo’s thigh. “But the big Dwarf, uncle!"

 

The next to come through the door was the another young hobbit, blond curls thick atop his head. "Master Bilbo! I'm sorry sir, I was watching him and he just ran off." Sam went over, trying to grab his hand.

 

When the door opened again, Bilbo threw down his spoon and crossed his arms. "This isn't a meeting hall!" His eyes narrowed at the intimidating figure in the doorway. Dwalin snorted, crossing his massive arms over a brick wall of a chest.

 

"Begging your pardon, cook, I'm just worried I may have frightened the little lad. He was so tiny I hardly saw him, you see."

 

With a boisterous round of laughter, Kíli reached down and plucked the tiny Hobbit from Bilbo’s legs, much to young Samewise’s dismay. “Master Dwalin would frighten anyone, Frodoling,” he said conspiratorially.

 

“I was not afraid!” Frodo insisted, his little fists bunching in Kíli’s hair. His eyes were wide as saucers as he stared at Dwalin, but true to his word, he looked more curious than fearful. “Sam was.”

 

Samwise turned a healthy shade of red and pressed his face to Bilbo’s hip. “Wasn’t,” he mumbled with little conviction.

 

Bilbo patted the boy's curls and sighed. "Well if no one was afraid, then why is my kitchen full of people not helping me cook? Kíli, take that pot off the burner before it boils over. Legolas, could you-"

                                               

He was interrupted by Gimli coming back up the stairs from the cellar. "Found the ale! Drank some too, made sure it was good." He smirked when he got to the kitchen, looking around the room till he found his husband. "Although, ‘course you taste better than any drink, my treasure."

 

Bilbo wagged his finger at them all before Legolas could dignify that with a response. "Out! If you're not helping, then everyone get out of my kitchen! Not you Kíli, you're getting paid for tonight so you'll stay right where you are!"

 

Kíli groaned, but was in the right spot to save the barrel of ale when Gimli tipped a bit too much. "Ah, why don't I help him out with this instead?"

 

“I’ll take the little ones,” Legolas offered, and Frodo was more than happy to be tipped into the Elf’s arms, Sam going red all the way down his neck when Legolas smiled sweetly and took him by the hand. He had to hunch to reach so far down, but he didn’t seem to mind, and as soon as he was out the door Gimli went to follow.

 

Kíli dragged the tankard out back where his kin and company stood drinking and laughing and lamenting the loss of their Hobbit’s abysmally small sandwiches. He kicked at Bofur and Nori until they moved out of his way and dropped the ale down beside the other drinks, and he was briefly swarmed for it.

 

Kíli got out of the group filling their glasses, and looked around the garden. It wasn't hard to spot who he was looking for, as Tauriel stood head and shoulders above everyone else, her red hair hanging loose tonight instead of tied back. Well, Bilbo could do without him a few minutes longer, couldn’t he?

 

Sidling up beside her, Kíli attempted to look nonchalant as he offered her a glass of red wine from his right hand. “For me?” she asked, the corners of her lips twitching upward.

 

“Bit presumptuous I know, but I thought the chances that you’d like wine were greater than ale,” he said with what he hoped was a charming grin even as he babbled like an idiot. Tauriel’s fine eyebrows quirked and before she could say anything, Kíli went on, “It’s just, Legolas goes on about Dorwinion wine parties and I figured that since you two grew up together, you’d prefer it to ale - that is, if you don’t,” he lifted the pint in his left hand, “there is this.”

 

She smiled and glanced around the garden before taking the wine. "It is very thoughtful, thank you. I thought you were helping Bilbo?" She sipped the wine, looking down at him.

 

"Ah, well yes, I'm going to go back in a minute. I thought you could use the company. I only hope I’m not a nuisance."

 

"You are not," she said with a little laugh, holding her glass out. Kíli tapped his against it with a grateful smile and did his best not to watch her lean against the tree with too much laud and admiration. He feared he may have failed spectacularly.

 

.

 

Legolas put Frodo down on the ground, and let go of Sam's hand. "Now, are you two bored? There is a game of horseshoes in the basement."

 

Samwise looked at Frodo hopefully, but the smallest Hobbit shook his head. "I want to throw axes! Glóin said that he does!"

 

Kneeling down beside them, Legolas ruffled Frodo’s dark curls. “Perhaps some other time, Frodo. I think anyone here who might teach you such a skill has been deep in the cups too long this evening.”

 

“Deep in what cups?” Frodo asked with such wide innocent eyes that Legolas had to laugh.

 

“Ones that would make wielding axes very dangerous for little Hobbits.”

 

Sam shook his head. "When is throwing axes not dangerous? Can we get the horseshoes now?"

 

Frodo sighed at being denied an axe, and nodded. He grabbed Sam by the hand and they looked up expectantly at Legolas, who made to go retrieve the game until a hand at his elbow stopped him. A tipsy-looking Ori smiled bashfully and lifted his glass. “Excuse me. Terribly sorry to bother you, but would you have any more rum?”

 

.

 

 

Two hours had passed before Bilbo finally gave up on trying to satisfy dwarvish appetites, and after doling out several further platters of sandwiches, seedcakes, roasted potatoes, and an entire baked ham, he figured the forfeit was well deserved.

 

“Botheration,” Bilbo mumbled to himself, peeking for the third time in the pantry and briskly shutting the doors in frustration when they yielded no results.

 

“Looking for something?” Fíli watched him untie his apron and throw it over the hook on the kitchen door, standing up straight when Bilbo started out the back. He followed him into the party when the Hobbit threw a pinched look over his shoulder and mentioned his missing nephew. “Why so concerned? You have an army of Dwarves fussing over your Frodo, surely you don’t think harm could come to him.”

 

"Do you expect me to entrust my nephew to your band of drunken kin?" he asked waspishly. It had been two hours since he had seen Frodo last, and his long absence made Bilbo anxious. Frodo never went so long surrounded by strangers without checking in on Bilbo, for the lad’s own comfort as well as his.

                         

And when a tiny Hobbit came dashing up to him, it was not the one he was looking for. "Sam, where is Frodo? Aren't you with him?"

 

The young faunt’s eyes were already filled with tears, threatening to fall. "I didn't look away for long, I swear, I told him I was just going to pick flowers for the Elf lady but then he was gone! I'm so sorry, Mister Bilbo!"

 

Bilbo blanched and Fíli clapped him on the shoulder before he reached out to Dwalin and Nori who stood just to the side by the half-eaten mountain of pastries. Bilbo patted Sam’s head to let him believe he wasn’t upset, and by the time he’d dabbed Sam’s tear-tracked face dry with his handkerchief, Fíli was back at their side.

 

“All your worry was for naught, little Hobbit,” he said kindly, and Sam’s eyes went wide with relief when he said, “our Frodo is safe and well.”

 

“And fast asleep,” Nori said over his shoulder. Dwalin winked at Bilbo and jerked his chin toward the farthest end of the long line of tables where a few Dwarrow stood clustered by the great elm tree.

 

Behind the tree was a bench where Gimli liked to sit and whittle on lazy summer days. On that bench sat Thorin, who Bilbo knew as Fíli and Kíli's uncle and the oddest Dwarf to come gallivanting through the pub doors at least once every week to order lunch. None of that mattered, of course, for on his lap slept Frodo with his hands bunched in the Thorin’s long dark hair.

 

"Oh thank goodness. That boy will be the death of me one day." Bilbo quickly made his way through the groups of drunken dwarves (and a spirited Legolas teaching them how to play darts) over to his nephew.

 

He shook his head with exasperated fondness when he saw that Frodo’s fists were full and unyieldingly clenched in Thorin’s hair, and he gestured at his nephew for Thorin’s benefit. Balin beside him smiled indulgently. “I apologize on his behalf,” he said with a little smile. “I do not think he realizes his own fondness for dwarven hair. He just finds himself holding onto it. Instinct, perhaps.”

 

“There’s no need to apologize,” Thorin said, and his wide hand spanned the whole of Frodo’s back. Both hands would have easily encompassed the faunt’s torso. Balin leaned forward and winked.

 

“He’s far more entertaining than Thorin. Or perhaps _with_ Thorin?”

 

Bilbo leaned in to pick him up, but Thorin held up a hand. "You'll just wake him. Is there a bed here he can sleep?" He held the Hobbit close and stood up slowly. Frodo barely twitched.

 

"Oh, yes, we made up the couch upstairs." Bilbo glanced down to Sam who was rubbing his eyes. "Are you ready for sleep as well?"

 

He looked ready to protest, but when Bilbo opened his arms he fell right into them and let the Hobbit heft him up. Fíli stepped forward and offered to take him instead, but Bilbo waved him off and led Thorin through the party.

 

Sam sat obediently on Legolas and Gimli’s coffee table, watching groggily as Bilbo fetched a pair of thick throw blankets and laid them out. The little blond Hobbit let himself be tucked in on one side of the makeshift bed, but he made a noise of protest when Thorin moved to lay Frodo on the far side.

 

Thorin was confused until Sam flipped open the blanket right beside him. Helpless to resist those sleepy, pleading eyes, Thorin moved Frodo to lay beside Sam instead.Bilbo pulled the blankets over them both and took a second to kiss their brows before retreating quietly with Thorin just outside the room.

 

"Thank you for the help. And I am sorry Frodo fell asleep on you, truly."

 

Thorin shook his head and glanced at the little settled Hobbits through the archway. His voice was soft and low and Bilbo tried not to shiver. “It was no trouble. He wanted a story, and I have many to tell.”

 

“Oh?” Bilbo stepped a little closer and thought better of it, stepping back again. “What manner of stories have you to tell?”

 

The smile he gave Bilbo then softened his handsome face and warmed Bilbo’s chest. "Legends and tales of adventure, all of them true." Then he glanced out to the garden, and his smile was not so sweet when he turned back. "He asked for a story about dragons."

 

Bilbo gave pause, having some faint knowledge of the terrible history the Dwarrow shared with dragons. "Ah, that may have been my fault. I gave him a toy dragon for my birthday."

 

“I believe every child is enchanted by tales of dragons,” Thorin said, dipping his head lower to look at Bilbo through his lashes. “Your young one is fortunate to have grown in the kindly west where he will never have to meet one.”

 

Eyes wide, Bilbo did step closer then, the tips of his fingers lighting upon Thorin’s forearm briefly. “If we have resurfaced any painful memories, I must apologize -”

 

"You have nothing to apologize for, Mister Baggins. It was only a story, one I told to Fíli and Kíli when they were no bigger than Frodo." Thorin allowed Bilbo’s hand to remain warm and still on his arm, and finally his eyes rested comfortably upon on Bilbo for the first time that night. "Would you like to hear one? A true dragon’s tale. I know of one intimately.”

 

“Oh, um.” Bilbo blinked twice, and when Thorin began to draw away, he grabbed his hand without a second thought. “Of course! Yes, yes of course I would, I only hesitate because I’m… I’m technically still on duty for the party downstairs, but I would. I would like to hear the story, that is. Oh my.” He dropped Thorin’s hand when he realized he was gripping it quite firmly and took a step back.

 

Thorin gave a small chuckle, and they both turned to the window when a cheer erupted outside. "It seems it's midnight. Perhaps I could tell you another time? It would at least give me an excuse to see you again."

 

Bilbo felt a flush rise in his cheeks, glad that the lighting was low and most of him was cast in shadow. "Ah, well, I supposed that would be fine. I really should be getting back to the kitchen, there is no telling what Kíli would get up to all alone." He licked his lower lip and ducked his head. “In any case, you can hardly imply we might not meet again otherwise when you’re in nearly twice a week to check on your nephews and make ridiculous orders of me.”

 

“Perhaps I would like to see you on a less professional basis, where I am not your patron and you needn’t serve me my _ridiculous_ orders,” Thorin teased with the sort of gruffness that would be off-putting coming from anyone but him.

 

"Ah, well yes, I, um..." Bilbo didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't used to dealing with this sort of thing, not for many years.

 

Thorin apparently was. "There is a wine gala in Dale in six day’s time. Would that be something you might enjoy?"

 

“Would that not be particularly elvish for your tastes?” Bilbo said lightly, and Thorin’s quiet laugh had him grinning like a fool.

 

“It might,” Thorin agreed, “and no doubt that is why I thought you would enjoy it. As for me, I would be more than content in your company, even among Elves and Men.”

 

“Hold your tongue,” Bilbo murmured and wagged a finger at him disapprovingly. “Some of my best friends are Elves. Perhaps I will agree accompany you if you swear you will not offend the fair folk.”

 

"I wouldn't dream of it." Thorin put his hand over his heart, and bowed his head in a mock vow. "Even I can stand Elvenkind for one night, if I have good company by my side."

                                                                 

“We shall see if I can say the same,” Bilbo said, and exchanged a private smile with the Dwarf.

 

.

 

Kíli nocked his fifth arrow and after a moment let it fly, the muted _thunk_ nearly lost in the distant sounds of the party. He set the bow down and went to retrieve his arrows from the target, yanking each one out with a satisfying little grunt.

 

He had shot the target all five times, but not as accurately as he usually might. He could blame the drink or the darkness of night, but neither of those things had plagued his aim much before. Not that it mattered; he just needed to let off some steam.

 

Just as he was getting back into place to start shooting again, he noticed a figure out of the corner of his eye. "You said I could use your shooting range."

 

“And of course you may,” Legolas said with a dip of his fair head. “Gimli tells me often of your skill with the bow, and I was curious. You’re remarkable.”

 

Blinking in surprise at the praise, Kíli shrugged and grinned. “I don’t need your scraps of condescension, princeling.”

 

“And I do not give them, _princeling_.” Legolas’ eyes shone with humor and he nodded toward the target on the far side of the garden. “You know, your accuracy might improve were you calm.”

 

Kíli raised an eyebrow and pulled back his arrow, sinking it into the target. "I think my accuracy is just fine no matter my emotions. And why would you think I'm not calm? I am the picture of calm."

 

The elf smiled and grabbed his own bow, taking one of Kíli's arrow and letting it loose. It hit dead center in the target, an honor that Kíli had missed by a finger’s width.

 

“Try again,” Legolas said in lieu of an answer, and rising to the challenge Kíli fired off another arrow only to watch it hit a hand’s-width from his previous error. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Do you feel calm?”

 

“Of course I’m not calm, I should have been able to hit that! I must have had too much to drink.” It hadn’t bothered him alone, but now that he was watched by such an experienced archer, irritation gnawed at him that he could not do as well as he normally would.

 

Legolas put a gentle hand on his shoulder for a moment before he made the long walk down the garden to the far target to retrieve the arrows. Kíli blew the bangs from his eyes in frustration, nearly jumping out of his boots when he noticed Tauriel standing in the space Legolas had only just vacated. “I didn’t know you were an archer,” she said, a little grin quirking at her lips.

 

He swallowed, glancing over at Legolas who seemed to be taking a very long time retrieving the arrows. "My father taught Fíli swordplay before he died, but I was too young. When I was older, my mother taught me archery." He glanced up at her, a small grin forming on his face. "I would not compare myself to an Elf, but among Dwarrow I am one of the best."

 

“That would not be difficult,” Gimli all but shouted over the garden, ambling to Tauriel’s side. She placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, and he did not bat her away as he might have if he were not a little unsteady on his feet. If Kíli had seen right, Legolas had cut him off hours ago and given him only water, and bullied him into visiting the food table to soak up the alcohol. It was the only reason he was not unconscious on the floor in the middle of the party and could hold himself upright to join them, hurl backhanded compliments at Kíli. “I would like to see you try and wield an axe, my lady.”

 

As would Kíli. Dearly.

 

The tall Elf smiled down at him, squeezing his shoulder. "My home is small, and I stock the fireplace myself. I assure you, I wield an ax for its intended purpose every winter." Once she was sure that Gimli would not fall over she let him go.

                                                                                         

"Perhaps I could show you how to use one in battle."

                                               

"I get along just fine in battle without an axe weighing me down." Tauriel walked over to Kíli once Legolas had returned with the arrows. "Your shoulders are far too tense. Are your muscles burdened with knots?"

 

Kíli was desperately certain he’d read a line like that in a book once and he did not meet Gimli’s eyes for fear that he would be read in an instant. “I’m fine,” he insisted, taking the proffered arrows from Legolas’ hand. “Honestly, it is late and I’ve had a few drinks.”

 

“I’ve heard that excuse before,” Tauriel said, smirking at Legolas, who narrowed his eyes back.

 

“Not in the last four-hundred years, you haven’t.”

 

He grabbed another arrow and nocked it. "My shoulders are fine." Kíli pulled the bow and fired; it managed to sink closer to the center, though not as accurate as it may once have been.

 

Legolas stood by his husband, more or less holding him up. "Tauriel, you are a healer. Perhaps you could help with his tension?" he suggested, an easy smile on his face as he glanced down to Gimli, sharing a secret look. Tauriel looked Kíli over for a long, painful moment before her lovely head cocked just slightly.

 

“I am not truly a healer,” she said, sending a momentary glance toward Legolas, “but I could try. If you’d like. It is only a little thing, to try and ease your tension if you are in pain.”

 

Kíli was sure his eyes were as big as Bilbo’s feast-worthy platters as he watched her draw near, a fair hand raised to the back of his neck. Slowly he nodded his head, and a second later Tauriel brushed the back of his neck with her fingers, thumbs between his shoulders, and dug them in. Kíli felt himself tense and slowly, slowly relax, and his head dropped forward. To his dismay she took her hands from him far sooner than he would have liked. "Did that help?"

 

"You say you are not a true healer, but that worked better than anything that Oin could have given me."

 

She gave him a dazzling smile and before he realized what was happening, she’d wrested the bow from one of his hands and an arrow from the other, loosing it in the direction of the target faster than Kíli’s brain could follow. It landed dead center and she stood a little straighter, handing the bow back. “Try again. It is far too lovely a night to stop trying now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Bridges and Balloons' by Joanna Newsom: _And a thimblesworth of milky moon / can touch hearts larger than a thimble._
> 
> If you are so inclined, feel free to follow [Byacolate](http://byacolate.tumblr.com/) and [Tyger's](http://whitetyger123.tumblr.com/) Tumblrs.


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